


That's Not My Name

by AnneKatherine



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Bad Writing, Bisexuality, F/F, F/M, France (Country), Minor Finn Collins/Clarke Griffin, Minor Finn Collins/Raven Reyes, Modern Era, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexism, Symbolism, Writers, but i stan bellarke, clexa is acknolwdged, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 03:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16031750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneKatherine/pseuds/AnneKatherine
Summary: Clarke writes, Finn receives. It's a vicious cycle.Not an uncommon occurrence, a man taking credit for a woman's hard work, but Clarke can learn how to use her own name eventually.





	That's Not My Name

_They call me Daria, but that is not my name. I know many things, I have memorized many things. Like Paris, and the night sky and when Iris flowers bloom. I know my name too, and it is not Daria._

_“Daria, we have to go.” Gillies grabs my wrist, and I nearly yelp in surprise, but now I’ve been pulled into an upright position, rather than sitting in my soft chair, and I’m more annoyed than frightened._

_I shake my head, but he hardly notices, Gillies was never one to lose momentum._

Clarke sat at her desk, sketching Gillies in the corner of the page, ruining the sheet for reprinting. His angry face required a lot of shading, and she nearly ripped the paper filling in his eyebrows alone. 

“Darling.” Finn calls from the study, “We’ll be late.”

Clarke hums in recognition but takes no effort to move. 

“Clarke! The author needs to be in attendance. I cannot be late, what are you working on?” Finn strode into the workspace, he wasn’t supposed to on Clarke’s request, but he rarely let that stop him.

“Oh, you’re drawing me. How sweet dear. Are you writing?”

“Yes. A story. They’ll like this one.” Clarke replies, abandoning the face she’d been sketching, realizing it had a large resemblance to Finn after all.

“That Is Not My Name? It’s not another woman’s story is it? A respected author cannot make his name only on feminine novels.”

“Maybe trying to write one then.” Clarke says under her breath

The slap across the face is just that, unexpected and cruel, she feels like she’d been wrenched out of her seat by the flick of a wrist. 

“Don’t you speak to me that way. I made you the best selling authoress, the only selling authoress!” Finn exclaims, “You are too ungrateful to act so innocent. Show some respect.”

“Earn some respect.” Clarke says, looking up at him from the corner of her eye, as she held her hands to her face. Finn slammed his fist down on the table Clarke had been working on, grabbed the sheet and ripped it in half. “Fine, don’t come. But don’t blame me for the rumors they spread about you.”

Clarke knew better than to ask what he meant, she bent to the floor to pick up the scraps. It lay in three whole pieces, not much damage done.

She gently laid the pieces on the table and took a paint brush full of white glue, carefully tracing the edge of each tear, before laying them together. You could barely see the rips that separated the narrator's monologue from Gillies’ abrupt entrance, and the angry sketch that now, seemed to stare Clarke down.

_The air was clean and for a change, my lungs felt cool and relaxed, my throat didn’t feel like screaming. Gillies walked next to me, his black coat must be killing him in this heat, but he was too proud to admit it._

_My own coat had been abandoned back at the villa, near the sunroom. It sat amongst the rest of my things in my room across from his._

_“Daria. You’ve heard the whispers.” He pauses at his unfortunate choice of words and clears his throat before continuing, “We’ve courted for nearly a year. I’m an influential man, soon out of my prime, and who else in my position hasn’t already claimed a wife? Why, Bastian has three children already.”_

_I look at my feet, unable to answer, unwilling to answer._

_“You know what I’m asking you, right Daria?”_

_I breath deeply through my nose, the air feels like poison now burning me inside out._

_“I’ll give you the day then. Agree after Maeve’s party tonight.”_

Clarke goes to the next meeting of egotistical authors with less resistance, Finn holds her arm close to his chest, showing off his blonde trophy for all to see. She forced a smile, it matches the rest of the costume she’s wearing. 

“Collins, you’ve heard Blake wishes to attend tonight?” One of the guests remark to Finn. He too has captured a young girl, she looks less rigid than Clarke, but all together not so different that herself.

“No! He thinks because he managed to get words on paper, he’s got a seat at the grownups table. Ridiculous.”

They continue to talk about the treacherous ‘Blake’, who Clarke had heard quite a lot about in the past few months. Finn didn’t allow her to read his novel, “Static Effect”, it wasn’t worth her time he assured her.

Behind them stood a tall man, with a dark complexion and features to match, unruly black curls poked out underneath his grey fedora. His smile was wide, and even though he was speaking to another group, he turned to them often, snickering as if in on a joke. He didn’t have a death grip around his date, a pretty girl with long brown hair and honest blue eyes, he hardly even touched her, except to whisper occasionally in her ear.

“Have any of you met Blake yet?” one of the gentleman asks

“No, he signs his writing with a single name. The coward. But I have a hunch some of his writing is based off personal experiences, if you know what I mean.” The men erupt in laughter, and some of the women accompanying them lightly laugh too. Clarke can’t understand the joke, having never read the book.

The tall dark man behind them is no longer grinning, his brow is furrowed, and his eyes dart to them periodically rather than his previous causal glances, her theory is confirmed, they’ve been talking about Blake right next to him.

“What is the book about?” Clarke asks softly, trying to pick one person to direct her question at.

“Why Collins, your girl hasn’t even read the latest?” one remarks,

“She says reading gives her a headache,” Finn makes up on the spot, “Poor soul. She only reads my own works to be honest.”

And produces them, Clarke thinks to herself. Finn tried writing once too, before they met, but after a few rejections he offered to use his connections to get her own work published. He said he’d use his name to get the manuscripts through the door then give her credit once they liked it, but it never happened, and Finn was the owner and author of one of her favorite stories, “Free Lucette”. 

Suddenly another party of people entered the small room, Clarke recognized one as Raven Reyes, a silent film actress, all the men seemingly turned their attention to her, forgetting their arm candy. Even Clarke was quickly abandoned.

Clarke didn’t mind, but the absence of the men halted the conversation, except that about marriage and babies among the women, who all needed to know who was who, who was doing who, and who was having who’s baby.

Clarke silently drifted from them, till she found herself in a quiet circle of conversation, across from Blake himself. They made eye contact but nothing more.

“Mr. Blake, do tell me what your inspiration for Emanuel was because to be honest, we don’t know much about you, so was it personally inspired?” one guest inquiries

Blake nods slowly, “I’d say to a degree, I am Emanuel. Just as Collins thinks he’s Lucette.” The group laughs, and Blake locks eyes with Clarke meaningfully, he knows who she is.

“I’d say we’re all Lucette though right? She’s based on primal human emotion, she could just as easily be called Luke without changing the story.” Clarke jumps in, half defending Finn, half defending her book

“I suppose that’s true, but isn’t the point to connect with a certain group of individuals. Those not common looked out for.”

“Yes. Personally I call that group humans.”

“You don’t think humans are looked out for?”

“I think humans are self destructive creatures, not to be tied down, or they break. We’re fragile like that. Lucette is a culmination of all human urges, fear, hatred but also love and mercy.”

Blake pauses to look at her closely, his eyes seem amused and surprised. He’d expected her to take the quip and brush it off, but she wasn’t defending her boyfriend anymore.

“You seem familiar with the novel.”

“I know the author very well.”

Blake smiles again, and the group has moved on, ignoring them already. He turns to the door and she follows silently. 

It’s not till they’re in the hall, that he notices her. Spinning on his heel, he asks, “What?”

“I wasn’t finished. Why do you hate it so much anyways? The book?” She asks, still reeling, but yearning for honest criticism.

“I don’t. I hate Collins. I can’t connect the book to him. How could someone so obtuse and myopic write something so revealing of human nature? How could they manage to tap into emotions they don’t seem to have?”

“Maybe you don’t know the author as well as you think you do.” She says suddenly, the hallway feeling very small. She’d stepped forward as he spoken unknowingly. She could feel his breath on her forehead now.

“I think i’ve judges Collins fairly.” Blake remarks, softly as she nears

“You’re right. You have.” She barely finishes when he kisses her slowly. It deepens as she leans into him, her hands are guided to his face, and his to her hair. They stand there a moment breathlessly pausing before re-embracing again and again. 

Blake backs away after a few minutes, touching his fingers to his lips, looking at her wildly, she must be a sight after that. “I- I can’t. I’m sorry.” He pauses a moment, before pushing the door open suddenly and escaping into the street.

_The party is dull, the people are dull, and Gillies casual glances are anything but. I stare out windows for entertainment, practicing what I’d say to someone on the street._

_“This is Daria. No no, we’re not married or engaged. I haven’t managed to snatch her up yet.” He chuckles as he says it, but the hand on my shoulder tightness. I try and smile pleasantly, but probably don’t succeed. “She’s a mute, not rude.” Gillies assures when the wife asks me a question, I hate when he says that. I hate that word._

_I have to use all my force to break from Gillies grip, and in a public setting he can’t exactly rush after me, so for a moment I’ve escaped. But the party will end soon, and I’ll have to respond in the only way I can. I might be a mute, but he seems deaf to the word no._

_“Are you lost?” I turn around where a woman stands, long curly hair cascades down her shoulders, and her dress seems to glide off her body._

_I shake my head, “I’m Lexa.” The woman supplies, she tilts her head towards me, silently asking for my name._

_I tap my throat, the way I’ve been instructed to tell people I’m mute. “Oh I’m sorry.” She says, and begins to retreat. No one wants to talk to the mute girl._

_She must have seen my face fall, because she stops returning to the party, pauses and says, “Do you want to see something cool?”_

_I nod, and follow her down the narrow hallway, at the end is a similar room to the one where the party is, but there’s a huge window seat in the farthest corner. Lexa strode across the room, and sat down, but I stood in the doorway uncertainty. Lexa tapped the seat next to her in the window and finally I joined her, looking across the horizon at the young New York skyline._

_“I thought they were crazy when they said there’d be skyscrapers. Seems so modern, futuristic. It’s 1923 not 1950!” Lexa exclaimed, laying a soft hand on mine. I almost pull away, out of habit and fear, but the light reflected against her face the shine in her eyes seemed to call me, and I leaned forward to it’s invitation._

_It was soft at first, but not for long. Lexa deepened it boldly and slowly I leaned back till I was pressed against the cushions, and Lexa laid on top of me. Her mouth stayed on mine, but her hands explored me._

_She paused, hovering a second above my mouth, so close I almost closed the space myself, but she stopped me, “No. I can’t-I can’t do this.” She gathered her dress, rushing out the door, I followed her to the exit, but no words came out as I tried to call her name, as usual._

Clarke arrived with Finn in a black car, but she walked home alone. Appreciating the solitude she stared down the street in wonder, she didn’t often get to wander the streets like this. Her apartment complex seemed familiar, but not like a home, like an annex she was being stuffed back inside. 

The stairs creaked as she climbed up them, and the door to her apartment was ajar. With only a push, it opened, she knew where she was going, the bedroom was at the back of the loft, and deep down Clarke knew where this was going, what had happened,

In her bed, next to the study she wrote his livelihood, he laid with a strikingly beautiful woman, Raven Reyes she recognized. They appeared to be in the throws when Clarke arrived at the door.

Finn noticed her after a moment, and stopped suddenly, she didn’t let her face cave, she hardly had to try.

“Clarke, it’s not what you think.” She turned to leave, “Don’t you walk out, don’t you blame me for this!” He cried, trailing after her, a feat in itself is how fast he managed to put on pants.

“You think you’re so perfect, but you drove me to this! I have needs, I’m human! I didn’t do this for me, I did this for us!”

Clarke whipped back towards him, he stood pitifully in the family room loose pants and shirt barely clung to him. 

“Listen closely, you spineless pig, I’ll only say this once. I’ve never been more disgusted in my life.”

“You think I’m disgusting? You’re the talk of the town, everyone thinks you’re a lesbian or a whore.”

“I meant I’m disgusting with myself, for staying with a insecure little boy who leeched off anyone who’d give him two cents, and I’m not a lesbian, I’m bisexual, but I can see how they’d make the mistake, seeing how long I dated you for.”

“Finn?” Raven called from down the hall, “What’s going on?”

“Go back to bed, I’ll be right there, I’m just kicking out this unwanted guest.” Finn turned back to Clarke, “You should leave.”

Clarke crossed her arms against her chest, “My books paid for this apartment, the books you took credit for.”

“Be quiet you bitch!” Finn hissed closing in on her, but Clarke was ready, she maneuvered her wrists away.

Raven arrived to the scene just in time, jumping between Clarke and Finn effectively stopping the attacks.

“Get out Collins.” Raven snarled, “You’ve done enough.”

Fine sneered at them both, before grabbing a coat and shoes, he was out the door in minutes, but Clarke’s heart rate had only risen.

Raven stayed with her, unaware of the cause of her panic attack but sympathetic. 

“It’ll be alright, you’ll be ok,” Raven said, as they stood together, Clarke crying silently on Raven’s shoulder, “I did it. They aren’t his.”

_The ride home was silent, except for the occasional turn of the engine. Gillies was expecting my acceptance any moment, I was staring at the trees around us to mercifully fall and free me from my destiny._

_When we arrived at the villa, he reached for my hand and I gave it slowly, know how he’d responded if I didn’t. He trailed me to the backyard, I used to love to stare at, where the field of flowers never seemed to end._

_“Daria Pas De Destin, you are a beautiful purebred french woman, who I love very much despite your flaws and faults, resistance means nothing to me because I always get through, and I know you want to be my wife, so let me make your dreams come true.” Gillies took my wrists in his hands, and stared into my eyes, he only waited for a shake of the head, a simple yes._

_If I said no, he wouldn’t care. Who would I tell? How would I tell. He’d marry me, he’d find a way, and I’d never track down the beautiful Lexa and tell answer her question. I cleared my throat and not expecting a single word to come out, I uttered, “No.”_

_It was garbled, but understandable. I had an excuse, it was my first word._

_Gillies eyes widened like saucers, he was so surprised he dropped my wrists, and I ran without looking back, without letting the fact he was certainly chasing me hinder my sprint. I hoisted myself onto a horse from the stables nearby and was off._

_I only knew Lexa at the party, nowhere else, so my best bet was to return. I could match the building, by finding the big window Lexa and I gazed through._

_I rush up the stairs, hiking my wrinkled dress up. When I throw open the doors the confused stares meet me and I ignore them, searching for a set of familiar eyes. Suddenly I land on them, striding across the room, I stand in front of Lexa._

_I sigh, “Want to see something cool?”_

Clarke stares out at the bustling bookshop, her latest novel “Ultimatum”, has been accepted by the publishing company, in large part thanks to Raven’s persuasive manner.

Mostly young women stream in and out, a few men who claim to be buying the novel for their wives, but insist on getting it signed also join, but she blinks in surprise when a familiar curly hair man enters to shop.

He locks eyes with her, and makes his way near, before they’re even face to face, he says, “You were right.”

She tilts her head, and he finally reaches her, “I guess I didn’t know ‘Lucette’s’ author as well as I thought I did.”

_We lay in the large room together, nobody knows where we are, everyone else must’ve left. I haven’t said anything else yet, I’m still saving it, because I want my voice to remain a novel new idea for me to expand._

_Lexa turns to me, “I looked for you after. I couldn’t find you all they would say about you is how you were mute, and Gillies’ little pet girlfriend, that strange Daria, they’d say.”_

_I turn sharply, “That’s not my name.”_

“It was me. I wrote them. All of them.” His eyes flash, he clenches his fist. “How could you give them up? To him? How could you let him take credit for your story.”

I jump off the high chair I’d been sitting on, “Because he doesn’t matter, he’s an inconsequential little man who I’m beginning to forget about. You on the other hand well, I’d like to learn more. Blake.”

“You can call me Bellamy.” He says, tilting his head forward, silently asking for Clarke’s name.

_"What's your name then?" Lexa says, reaching to brush off a piece of hair from my face,_

__

_“Iris,” I reply, a grin spreading across my face as I say it for the first time._

“Clarke.” I say tracing his body with my eyes as I try to remember this, because it feels like the first time I’d ever said it, “My name is Clarke.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by Big Eyes and Colette, very good movies. I love the way this turned out and tell me if you got the symbolism between Iris and Clarke? Comments are soo soo welcome!


End file.
